Rochester of Thornfield Hall
by friend2friend1
Summary: Its probably been done to death, but I want my own chance to tell Edward Fairfax Rochester's story. I may not even reveal anything new about him, it would surprise me if I do lol. In all honesty, there's not enough time in my lifefor me to spend on my writing, I do apologize in advance.
1. Chapter 1

loved Jane and Rochester forever !

Main characters... Jane Eyre

Mrs. Fairfax

Adele

Edward Fairfax Rochester

Bertha Antoinetta Mason

Blanche Ingram and family

the usual cast of visitors may make an appearance occasionally

* * *

There was no chance of a walk that day. The advancing threat of the hurricane had kept him close to the villa, his mind adamantly refusing to call the building 'home'. No sane human being could call the frame that housed the demonic miasma that embodied Bertha Antonietta Mason that. As he refused to call it home, he also in his heart refused to call the Creole woman his wife.

The Jamaican climate smothered him, drenching him in its dampness, its smells and ever present noise. This night's moon set had been a blood-red spectacle, bathing the world in its choleric light. Finding it impossible to sleep, fevered and desperate, he clambered out of his four-poster, stepping into the trousers he had slung over the back of a chair.

Even as he stood there, his sentient state seemed to unleash the violent, barbaric tongue of the woman he had been deceived into a marital union with. Curse word followed curse word in an unending torrent of abuse, befouling the very air.

A black vision of the future arose in his mind's eye, and he recoiled from it's diseased images with savage denial. Broodingly, he paced in his room, his wanderings leading him past a battered sea chest he had claimed for his own to carry possessions on the voyage out.

A wild scheme took root in his mind, and acting upon it immediately, he knelt before it on the floor. Rummaging through its contents, he soon pulled out a cloth-wrapped parcel. Sinking back on his heels, he dislodged the cloth to find a fine pair of pistols within.

The unthinkable wish to be free of it all came from the vivid night sky, engulfing him in a wave of despair and blackness. For blank seconds he entertained it's alluring pain-dulling call, feeling its deceitful promise of rest. How easy it would be to place the barrel in his mouth and pull the trigger.

"NO" he sternly reproved the lesser side of his character, "I shall not let them win that easily."

Even as he stood and replaced the pistols in the trunk, and turned his back on temptation, a sudden cooling wind sprang up, bringing the slightest hint of the purity of an English morning with it. The air was good, and with a startling suddenness, the heavens opened and a torrent of liquid poured down.

It washed the sickly cloying scent from the air, and he breathed deeply of its invigorating essence. It soaked the sandy ground under the trees, it beat on the roof of the villa, pouring in rivulets from the verandah eaves.

It was almost mesmerizing in its power, and he stepped willingly into its soothing showers. Opening the French windows that opened out onto the long verandah that wrapped it's way around three sides of his villa. He stepped through them and into the garden and in seconds he was as wet as the bougainvillea and the orange trees that graced his garden.

The intense downpour slowly diminished, leaving a dripping wet paradise in its wake. Only the freshening breeze remained as a witness to any of the storm's turbulence and confabulation. As the storm diminished, and a calmness ensued, hope revived within Edward Rochester. He cast away any thoughts of passing from this life. Gazing at the now-becalmed sea through a flower-covered arch, it's almost English-like colouring brought back thoughts of England and his Thornfield home.

It had been more than four years since he had set foot on his native heath, and the desire to see its verdant shores became stronger than he had ever known since he had left.

In truth, his name here now carried an eternal association with the mad woman in the next rooms. He saw in a stranger's glance the both disgust and pity, and entirely justified reaction he could admit.

None in Spanishtown knew the truth of his present predicament had come about, and all besides himself who had played a part were now rotting deservedly in their graves.

The sad tale had begun when two men of infamous fortune had conspired to buy and sell a title and a son in law for a mad depraved heiress. Not even the laws of England could free Edward Fairfax Rochester from the legal constructs of marriage that now held him captive.

It was unthinkable that a father could play such a duplicitous and cruel role in his son's fortunes, yet his present state made the unthinkable reality.

He had been the privileged younger son on a titled estate that drew 20,000 pounds a year. A dim memory of a pretty, faded woman graced his vision, and he remembered the kind gentle mother who had die d from the complications of pregnancy when he was 8.

After her demise, it was not stretching the truth to say that his life had slowly but surely become a living hell. His brother in name only Roland, and the man who had fathered him, had from his youth conspired to cheat him from his inheritance.

If it had been simply a case of a younger son set adrift and penniless from the family fortune in favour of the eldest, it would have been a little more excusable although still reprehensible.

The terrible thought that his own flesh and blood has knowingly, willingly, and cold-bloodedly bound him for life to an insane fiend for the sake of 'money' was something else entirely, something that had turned his soul rancid and morbid.

Suffice it to say, when the news of their deaths reached him in the West Indies, that he felt nothing but a justifiable sense of vengeance. And now, as he looked England ward, it came to him that his best course of action was to begin again in his native heath.

To England, he would go along with the mad wretch that was forever bound to him. There was room enough to hide her in the gloomy recesses of Thornfield with none the wiser. He would be essentially a man free to pursue pleasure and recreation.

He retired to his bed, mentally beginning to list and anticipate his coming return journey home.


	2. Chapter 2

Wow, that was a long hiatus! I truly dont deserve any loyalty from my readers, I'm crap at managing any deadllines. :( but I do love Edward and Jane's story and I hope I can do it justice.

* * *

Chapter Two

Never had Edward experienced such a nightmarish journey, and it was with immense relief he reached the relative safety of Thornfield Hall. It had taken much time and maneuvering and some bribery to get the mad woman ensconced in relative privacy on board a vessel, and once embarked, with every hour he anticipated discovery or mayhem.

He had managed, with the help of a sailor whom he paid, to get her off ship at Liverpool, under cover of a night, and into the coach from Thornfield which he had arranged. Now it was up to him to find a suitable keeper. As he made his plans, it seemed that there was only one place in Thornfield proper where his secret would be safe from the gossip of friends and staff alike, the north tower.

He had communicated the date of his arrival in advance to Mrs. Fairfax, a distant relative of his mother's who had been a competent and efficient housekeeper since before he was born. The only drawback to her presence and that of other staff was his need of secrecy in regards to the madwoman. Only with an immense amount of wariness and cunning could he hope to keep his unfortunate secret from her. Thankfully, it appeared that his father had been too ashamed of his 'daughter-in-law' to make the nuptials public knowledge.

The task of finding a suitable keeper for the reprobate who bore his name would be one he could not hope to accomplish alone. On a flimsy pretext, he sent John, his driver, to summon Dr. Carter.

In the ensuing hours, upon his physician's arrival, he both revealed his degrading history and swore the surgeon to utmost secrecy. It was a conundrum that seemed unsolvable,the finding of a keeper that would both be able to weather the torrent of abuse and vitriol that would most certainly be poured out on her head on a daily basis, be vigilant enough to thwart the demon, and yet could be trusted to keep his/her counsel.

First and foremost came the matters of the estate itself. Thornfield Hall and its tenanted lands were as always, constant and ever pressing on him. His estate agent had managed it all with his usual capability and expertise, but of course, some things had been deferred until after his return to England. The business of the estate was a blessing in its way to be able to forget the spectre that remained hidden in her lofty precincts.

Dr. Carter arrived suddenly one warm summer day, and was promptly admitted to Edward's study.

"I believe I have found a suitable candidate that is willing and capable of managing the madwoman Bertha. I inquired at Grimsby Retreat, for it seems that if you were not so adverse to the idea, she could be placed as a patient. The alternative must be then to bring one of its workers to Thornfield."

"NO, NEVER. I have heard the infamous stories of how inmates at Grimsby are treated. As little affinity as I own for the woman, I cannot in good conscience subject another human being to its horrors. Nor can I banish her to Ferndean, as tempting the thought is to me. I know firsthand the ill health that is invariably a result of too long an exposure to its foul dampness. I am even less a murderer in my present state than I am a true husband. I trust your judgement, bring her for an interview at your convenience."

Within a few days, Carter had returned with Mrs. Grace Poole. Edward hired her on the spot, finding her taciturn, gaunt appearance and credentials to his satisfaction. By the end of the month, Mrs. Poole had turned the dreary space into a suitable apartment for two, inclusive of all necessary precautions. Her family history and her present addiction to spirits were the insurance he needed to ensure her blackmailed silence.

His immediate duties, his burden of a wife suitably managed, he felt himself at last free to pursue his own happiness and pleasure. With relief and satisfaction, he left England and Thornfield for the Continent and beyond. What bliss!

Month followed upon month, and eventually year followed year, as he took up abodes in first London, then Paris, and then onward, wherever he desired. His fortune and his inheritance of a respected family name opened society's doors wide and he strode through all of them with impecunious abandon.

It was not the mere indulgence of pleasure, the lure of the forbidden that consumed him. His experiences had soured him to the profane and licentious. His only real desire was to find a companion, a truly kindred soul. If possible, to cleanse his soul of its tainted memories and haunted past.

Beginning with the famed English heiress, Addie Smyth-Jones, he pursued his ideal in hotel ballrooms, courtyard gardens, and intimate estate parties. To his great surprise and disgust, it appeared that for all their fashion and good breeding, they generally shared more than a few unfortunate traits with the 'Creole'.

They in actuality had little desire to expand their mind, or involve themselves in anything but mindless foolish whims and petty social entertainments. Their selfish demand for attention and their tawdry dalliances eventually repulsed him. In his ignorance, he was sure that travel would bring to him a woman equal to him in spirit and affection.

Looking back at it in later years, he would reprove himself for entertaining any affection for the French opera dancer, Celine Varens. All he and fellow Englishman, John Hull had had in mind the night he had met Celine was a good time. Celine and her friend, Aline, had immediately attracted their attention once they had entered the salon after the show.

Within days, he was assured of her 'devotion' to her English suitor, and he looked forward to the attention of one whom he now felt he cherished a 'grand passion' for. The city life had never seemed so rosy, and weeks upon weeks passed as he built the two of them a bower in the Ritz. It was true her French coarseness at times grated on him, but to be so admired by so beautiful a woman satisfied his pride, ensnaring him deeper.

Celine eventually presented him with a daughter whom she named Adele, and while he could never quite come to terms with the idea of parenting such a being so unlike himself, he submitted to the claims and provided for her as his own. Celine precipitately found the child a nurse, not wishing to be encumbered by the demands of an infant. Her career was at its height, after all.

What would have become of their relationship, he would never know, for its demise had come swiftly and without warning. One afternoon, before he could make his presence in her room known, she and her lover had entered, immediately engaging in their illicit physical relationship. As he listened in horror, Celine's lover had questioned her loyalties and he had heard with his own ears her impassioned declaration of fidelity to his rival. Together they had mocked the Englishman for his folly and his deficiencies as a man and a lover. It was a bitter, poisoned experience he would never forget. He abandoned her without remorse, only to find that she had in turn abandoned her child and left for Italy.

He could not have the child's impoverishment on his conscience, so he begrudgingly continued to employ the French nurse as he continued his pursuit of a true idyllic life. He had in his fantasy dreamed of the day Celine would retire from the stage and had in preparation bought a villa on the shores of the Mediterranean. He engaged a housekeeper and her husband to manage its upkeep.

To his utter chagrin and self-deprecation, he then embarked on the duplicate and triplicate of his entanglement with Celine Varens, the only difference being the nationality and appearance of his next two mistresses. Giacinta was a true Italian by blood, tongue and nature, while also being the most handsome beauty of the Italian Riviera. It took him less than ten weeks to realize she was Bertha's twin, bringing their affair to an abrupt and stormy end. Clara took even less, although he was kinder to the dull, mindless Germanic blonde who only wished to be financially secure.

He spent the rest of the year and into the next in a grim, embittered state of mind. He withdrew for a time to his villa, staring days on end at the beatific waters of the sea, completely at sea in his soul.

At long last, the letters from his estate manager could be ignored no longer and he began a dark, tormented journey back to his prison, the saturnine precincts of Thornfield Hall with its tormented inhabitant.


	3. Chapter 3

lovely review, BonBonnet! thank you so much! I do hope I have lived and breathed the story enough to sense the nuances of Edward's character that lie under the surface. so I'm grateful for your remark in that regard

the last few days has been uninterrupted and so I believe I have the beginnings of Chapter 4 as well.. I live in hope anyway.. and PLZ feel FREE to point out all the flaws! hehe.. but have mercy while doing so lol!

* * *

Chapter 3

There were three creatures now to be considered besides himself as Edward embarked on his return journey to English shores. They were the French child, Adele Varens, now 6 and presently ensconced in a small villa near Paris, his noble steed, Mesrours, and the large Newfoundland, Pilot.

The faithfulness of the mute creatures had in some ways assuaged his emptiness, although he had now completely abandoned his search for an intellectual, faithful companion. He had come to believe that it was a castle in the air that did not exist in the here and now.

Adele he brought with himself and also, her nurse, Sophie. He engaged John to meet them in London at the Connaught Hotel, who was to assist them in the journey to Thornfield.

He sent with them a long missive to Mrs. Fairfax, apprising her of Adele's situation, and of his wishes that she engage an English governess for the child, one who was fluent in French and competent in her tutelage.

He briefly had considered the danger of more inmates at Thornfield, and in not so many words instructed Mrs. Fairfax to discourage any curiosity and explorations about Thornfield from the new tenants.

He was much loathe to return to his ancestral home, but eventually, much to his dismay, he found himself riding Mesrours, with Pilot assaying ahead of him on Hay Lane. With Hay behind him and Rochester Arms, the gloominess of his thoughts came to him in full force.

He rebelled at his plight and the circumstances which had thwarted his youth and his happiness. Bitter in soul, and harsh in demeanour, he rode forcefully through the deepening twilight.

It was with indifference he passed the solitary bonneted figure seated by the wayside. The moonlight cast shadows on the frozen path, dictating a caution that he carelessly ignored.

A few galloping paces beyond, Mesrour suddenly seemed to lose his footing, and man and beast skidded haplessly to the icy ground.

It appeared suddenly as if he and Mesrour were affixed to the path, unable to rise. It took determined, persistent effort on his part to even gain his footing, and Mesrour seemed exceeding helpless and incapacitated.

The slight bonneted figure had in the meantime come to stand nearby, presumably wishing to offer assistance. He brusquely reproved her, ordering her out of his way

Once the startled horse was up, Edward moved to regain control of it, only to feel a stabbing pain as he placed his weight on one foot. Again the slight figure approached, and again he rebuffed her as he hobbled to the nearby stile.

The slight figure spoke in a girlish yet measured tones, "Sir, I will not leave you until I see you are fit to mount your horse."

He looked straight at her for the first time. He saw a plain figure before him, clothed in the simplest of garments which bore a sombre tone. They were not suitable for a lady's maid, yet her demeanour and speech showed a level of education not found in a kitchen or house servant.

How and why would any female be lingering in such a dark aspect alone? He queried her sharply, intending to find out her intentions and purposes.

She sensed his puzzlement, and informed her of her status as governess at Thornfield. So, here was the governess that Mrs. Fairfax had engaged for Adele's benefit.

She stood still and quiet, almost childlike in her demeanour. It was impossible to believe her capable of being useful and efficient. But needs must, so he instructed her to bring Mesrours to him, finding that his ankle still refused to bear his weight.

Her feeble efforts to master the spirited horse were almost comical in their ineffectiveness. There seemed only one way out of their predicament. He requested the girl to come to his side, and to allow him to lean his weight on her small frame.

As he pressed into her shoulder, a fancy struck him that a sense of comfort and sympathy had migrated up from her through his arm and into his heart.

With a great deal of effort and hard-won composure, he regained his seat on Mesrour's back. The brief incident was over, and yet he felt pulled toward this petite pale sombre elf in her dark cloak.

Whatever this was, it bore investigation. He goaded Mesrour into a gallop, secure in the knowledge that he could become better acquainted with the creature at his leisure.

For now, he wanted a place to rest his foot, and the services of his physician, Dr. Carter. Sufficient for tomorrow were the evils thereof.

* * *

Dr. Carter's ministrations were prompt and thorough, and before he left Thornfield for the night, he administered a sleeping powder to Edward that would insure a sound sleep devoid of any throbbing achings from his lower limb.

A promise was made to return the following day to check on his patient.

He awoke refreshed, though still incapacitated by the sprain. With a few pulls of his bell, he was able to summon Mrs. Fairfax, and John who promised to bring the estate manager to see him later in the forenoon.

Mrs. Fairfax busied herself providing a hearty breakfast and moving him from his bed, restoring his bed to order and setting his room to rights.

Mrs. Fairfax was quick to inform him of the goings on of the household, and one of the biggest items of interest to her was the installation of Adele, her nurse, and now, her governess.

Querying her about the young woman, he soon found that her name was Jane Eyre and she had previously been a teacher at Lowood Orphanage, a charitable concern.

By careful wording of his questions, he also determined that nothing unusual had occurred in regards to the inhabitant of the North work done, she departed to oversee the never ending business of his house, and he instructed her to leave the door open for the time being.

Before long, he heard happy voices echoing in the gallery outside his room. He was intrigued to see the little French child happily at play, her governess seeming a curious mixture of child-likeness and austerity.

She was refined although quiet and reserved, already absorbed in her task of bringing decorum and restraint to offset the excesses Adele exhibited. Her French was school girlish but was adequate to converse with the quick tongue of the little Parisienne.

The two of them occasionally wandered to a nearby window, peering from it, hoping for a break in the snowy vistas beyond. Either way Miss Eyre seemed well able to occupy her pupil, and eventually she was released from her duties by a call from Sophie, the child's nurse. Already he was intrigued by this girl-woman who had taken roost in his solitary domain.

With time to herself, she did not mope or show herself to be bored. Rather she meandered rather aimlessly, not discontented to be alone and without, dare he say, male attention. The daydreams of youth seemed to hover in a diaphanous cloud, and she appeared pleased to entertain them, unencumbered by duty.

The voice of Mrs. Fairfax below interrupted her daydreams, and the more usual aspect of duty and industry returned. She seemed to take her pleasures in minute, simple dosages, and easily shouldered again her habitual burdens and responsibilities.

She scampered quickly away and down the stairs, and he immediately felt again the solitude that pressed heavily on his spirits. The house as always was the stone embodiment of his unhappy past, especially now with its present captive.

Within minutes, John had entered his room. The estate manager, William, had arrived, as well as some of the tenants of Thornfield proper. He now slowly and painfully went through the motions of dressing, lunching, and after taking up residence in the library, receiving his visitors.

It took almost until tea time before they were through, and when Mrs. Fairfax approached, he requested that tea be in the main drawing room and that Adele and her governess be present as well as Mrs. Fairfax herself.

The idea met with the good housekeeper's approbation, and she hurried away to inform Miss Eyre and to arrange with Leah the details of the tea. It only remained for Edward to enter the library, find a suitable sofa that would allow him to elevate his throbbing foot adequately and impatiently await Miss Eyre's entrance.

* * *

Its a fine line between being too narrow and pedantic, and steering clear of too much artistic license.. I hope I can find the happy medium .. oh well


	4. Chapter 4

I'm so deeply sorry to have taken such a looonnng hiatus.. I think I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.. need to express appreciation for the lovely amazing comments I have received .. hope I can meet such a high opinion with this new chapter.. comments welcome... plz note I am obviously not Ms. Bronte

* * *

Chapter Four

Reclining on the chesterfield, Edward felt restless yet expectant waiting for Miss Eyre's arrival. He started at the abrupt knock on the door, but was disappointed to see it was only Carter, his physician.

He had come to check his patient, and after a brief exam, instructed him that he should be able to bear weight on it in the morning, with a cane if necessary. They conferred about the Creole, Rochester instructing the physician to do a clandestine visit while he was there. He himself had briefly seen Mrs. Poole since his return, the latter ensuring him the Creole was still a secret to all within the household. Left alone after the doctor's departure, Edward felt again his wretched condition.

Within minutes, a slight tap on the door sounded and the door opened to reveal Sophie and Adele. He surly instructed the Frenchwoman to leave her charge, to which she promptly obeyed, departing for her quarters.

The Varens' 'jeune fille' was so much her mother it also depressed him to look at her. It also reminded him that no matter how intriguingly forthright the governess might prove to be, she was also capable of being as capricious and wily as the rest of her kind, and to be on his guard.

With the bustling officiousness he had come to expect, Mrs. Fairfax entered the room, and in her wake, was the slight English governess, Jane Eyre. As before, the juxtaposition of schoolgirlish demeanour and nun-like sombreness intrigued him, and he felt again the feyness of the girl's attitude.

He was vexed by his interest, and strove to hide it in acerbity. He noted well that the little governess rather than taking offense or showing herself mortified by his incivility , was instead diffident and serene.

As the evening wore on, blunt churlishness was answered quietly by the girl without the expected coquettishness or simpering. Where in God's green earth had this elfish creature sprung from? Surely there had been uncanny, preternine forces at work out on Hay Lane last night.

He suddenly remembered the portfolio Adele had shown him since his arrival, and ordered Miss Eyre to bring it before him. As before, each completed painting drew his attention. He singled out three for scrutiny, piling the rest and ordering Adele to take them to a nearby table.

In one fell swoop, the paintings spoke to him, beckoning him to discover an apparently quixotic, intriguing nature that sat before him garbed in the trappings of a governess. As isolated and dull as her previous life had been, it was apparent that she inexplicably possessed the richest inner life he had ever met.

It was easy to believe her artificial and pretentious, yet his interrogation did not reveal her as fraudulent, but entirely capable of being the visionary who painted such dreamlike images.

Eventually, the lateness of the hour dawned upon him and his ankle now hurt like the blazes. He abruptly dismissed them requesting that Mrs. Fairfax send John to assist him.

Before long, he was ensconced in his room, amazed that his evening had been not at all mundane and tedious.

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Before many days had passed, the attachment that he felt for the governess was fast becoming a life-altering one. He who had once hated every breath he must draw within the grounds of Thornfield now found himself rooted to its battlements and flora for one reason alone.

To his delight, it seemed that Miss Eyre was exceptionally curious of what lay beyond the shores of the green isle. In her he found a receptacle for the better memories he had formed abroad, and it was easy to envision her in the delightful scapes he had beheld.

He longed to transport them not only in imagination and dream castles, but in earthly form to places that he had found, away from any reminders of what his past had been.

It was hard to guard his restored emotions from her, and yet she seemed in her turn guarded from him, not yet sure of her powers, and fearful of what she felt in her inexperience and innocence. in this she was right and he knew it , himself fearful that she would be tainted by the impurity of his situation.

HHHHHe had worn himself out physically one day, needing a cure for the bitterness that so swiftly beset him. He knew the folly of any weaknesses, the vampire so canny she seemed to know the instant when his guard was down. Still, he bludgeoned his body, and at last, undressed, sinking into weary oblivion on his bed.

How stupified he was to wake up, chilled to his bones, yet surrounded by the acrid fumes and lurking wafts of a conflagration.

He spoke harshly and demandingly, stunned at once to be answered by the insistent tones of Jane Eyre.

It was soon evident what had transpired in his room, he knew not how the demon had escaped her captor, but it was glaringly obvious that his life had been summarily spared, and by the capable, unerring hand of the slight elf before him.

It was imperative he ensure her safety and his own from the Creole, and so he bid a puzzled Jane to wait alone while he sought the ways and means of the attack. Secrecy was of the utmost importance, and so although Jane's seeking of assistance was practical, it would not do for any discovery to be made of the inmate of the North Tower.

Silently, he traversed the dark corridors, wondering how the girl had managed to brave the terrors of what she had heard, not one in a thousand females would have opened her door to the uncertainty of danger without, let alone sought to quench unassisted the destructive flames.

Unlocking the door he had installed to house the fiend, he ascended into her environs. Grace Poole sat blearily shaken and unnerved, yet from within the inner walls, he could hear the ever present chattering and ghoulish gibbering.

Looking sternly to Grace, he saw the empty bottles that told immediately the story of the night's events. It was this failing of Grace Poole that was both the reason and the precariousness of his contract with the dour woman.

He rebuked her carelessness savagely, and received her sullen remorse in return. The damage had been done, and he must now do much to distract and deflect the curious minds of not only Jane, but the household he employed and his tenants and neighbours. Whatever lengths he must go to, he would.

And yet, the knowledge of what could have been his fate that night overwhelmed him, and in his undoing, he found a gratitude and love for the slight figure who waited patiently and silently in his room.

Upon entering and querying her, he discovered with relief and guilt that she was knowledgeable of the common gossip of Grace Poole's curiosities and vagaries and had easily and erroneously ascribed the night's activities to her account.

Standing before her, the mere substance of her presence was infinitely, blessedly welcome to his solitary chambers and sublimely felt to his core. Without a doubt, he now knew he had met his soulmate for all time.

Unguarded emotional words spilled from his lips, his defenses shot down around him.

All the while, it was obvious Jane was drawing back from the beckoning precipice she had little comprehension or experience with, yet her inborn feminine senses bid her to be wary of. He could not though of his own volition allow her to leave, and it was only the threat of discovery that aided her in her feeble seeking of an escape.

Left alone, he sat near the fire in the blackened scorched room and brooded. A plan was forming that he would soon put to action.


End file.
